


Various-Ships Drabbles Collection

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bi Daisy, Body Shots, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Non-binary Bobbi, Pre-Relationship, Pride, Protectiveness, Queer Huntingbird, Season 5 AU, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 04, Stuffed Toys, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: A compilation of my shipp-y, non-Fitzsimmons/Fitzskimmons/Fitzdaisy drabbles.Latest one: Quakerider coworkers AU





	1. Skimmons - College AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "I’m really passionate about this cause and I will give you this flier if I have to shove it down your throat"

If there is something Daisy can’t understand is how can there still be people on this world who don’t understand that headphones on is an universal signal to convey “don’t talk to me”. 

To be fair, there are a lot of things she doesn’t understand; this one is just the more pressing at this place and time, with this- unfairly pretty, overly-enthusiastic- girl waving a flyer in front of her face, undeterred by Daisy’s lack of response. Daisy sighs; she still has a quarter hour of waiting before the building opens- that’s why she doesn’t make a habit of getting to class early-, she might as well listen to what the girl is even trying to tell her: that might even set her free earlier.

“- and that’s why we believe that is key to-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, english. You might not have noticed it, but I wasn't listening to a word you said. You might want to start over.”

Daisy was expecting a glare at the very least, but this girl just beams at her and launches herself at top speed onto a speech about women in science, gender inequality and her voluntarism group for GEMS programs. 

“I will stop you right there, because I am fully aware of what you are talking about.” Wow, apparently there was a way to render this girl speechless after all. She moves her backpack to the front, and points at the black and white button that reads  _ Code like a girl _ . “So, no need to try to convert me; I’m sold.” 

The girl is blushing, and Daisy thinks that her plot-twist wasn’t that awe-inspiring, until she realizes that the other girl- _ Jemma, _ Daisy remembers she has introduced herself at the start of the second take of her speech- is staring at the other button on her backpack; the one that is blue, pink and purple and reads _ Bi _ _ 2 _ _. _ Daisy blushes too; she is not ashamed, not when she knows exactly who she is and likes to wear it on her sleeve- or her backpack- for anyone to see, but it always is a little bewildering to see people’s reactions first hand. 

“That only makes it harder, you know.”

She doesn’t like to play the victim, because she _ isn’t  _ a victim; but certain things that are a reality and if this girl- _ Jemma- _ wants to lessen the hardships for the next generations, she needs to be aware of which those hardships are. 

Jemma nods, but still looks like is physically difficult for her to tore her eyes apart from the button; Daisy squirms, a little bit uncomfortable. 

“I know.”

She said  _ I know, _ not _ I can imagine _ , and Daisy feels a small, tiny, _ insignificant _ speck of hope flaring on her chest. She is the last person to try to judge people on looks alone, but she knows which is the one _ Bi  _ she can only hope that feels relatable to Jemma.

The other girl bites her lower lip and Daisy blushes harder; this one meeting with a seemingly unpleasant person isn’t going at all like she expected.

“Does this mean that I can count you in for saturday’s meeting?”

She should say no. She totally should. She has her plate full with school and training and the bare minimum one needs to do in order to at least maintain the facade of having a social life. She should say no. So, of course, she says:

“I will be there.”

(She can’t be held accountable for doing what she shouldn’t do if that means she gets to see that smile again, okay?)

Jemma moves her weight from one foot to another, and Daisy is about to mumble something about having to get to class when Jemma takes back the flyer from between Daisy’s hands. Daisy frowns at her; how did she manage to already screw this?

But Jemma takes a pen out from behind her ear and scribbles something on the flyer before giving it back, red as the sun.

“That’s my personal number.”

Daisy can't help but grinning.

“Okay.”

Jemma waves a vague hand between them.

“In case you need it for-”

“- any question I may have.”

“- for personal reasons.”

Jemma smiles and with a nod leaves to go shove her flyer onto someone else’s face. 

Maybe she should start making a habit out of arriving early to class.


	2. FitzMack- S2 Pre-relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has a growing interest in Mack, but has no idea if those feelings could be fruitful. With a little help from Hunter, he makes a step in the direction of finding out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt. Also fulfills the prompt "food" from the AOSAdvent2017

Not matter what Hunter implies- and also what Hunter very explicitly says; and believe him, Hunter can get _ very  _ explicit-, there are a ton of reasons why this could end in disaster, including but not limited to:

  1. His feelings for Jemma are vox populi, and even though everyone proclaims that they want nothing more than to help him get over them, when the moment of words turning into practical help comes, nobody is actually willing to do what needs to be done.
  2. He has no knowledge about whether Mack is or isn’t into guys, and he is _not_ counting Hunter commentary as factual proof. 
  3. He is, well, _himself,_ and everything he does turns into a messy mess quicker than he can snap his fingers (and he is getting better and better at snapping his fingers).



And when all evidence points to a disaster, well, you just _don’t_ put the theory into practice. That’s just science, that’s just a fact, and Fitz is very very good at shielding himself against “scientific excuses” to not do what he really wants to do.

Of course, science doesn’t take into account one Lance Hunter.

* * *

He has been stood up. He understands, of course, the importance and the instability of their line of work, but still, if the mission were as important as Hunter assures it is on his hastily left note, Fitz would have found out in some other way besides Hunter. His money is on Hunter ditching him to go make out with Bobbi in a dark corner; it wouldn’t be the first time and probably it won’t be the last either. 

It’s okay, he can handle it; he will just have a beer or two, mop a little around the lounge and then go to bed. It won’t be the worst night he has ever had.

Until he realizes that _ he has not  _ been stood up; he has been _ set up. _

“Hey, Turbo. Wanna grab a bite with me?”

He freezes at the sigh of Mack with his lopsided smile and his after-work attire, looking like something straight out of a dream. It’s not the end of the world, he tries to convince himself to stop hyperventilating; they have done this before, even if not without Hunter working as a buffer of some sorts; they are friends and teammates, there is no need to make this awkward. They can have one dinner together without him spilling the beans. _ You can keep it in your pants for this long, Leopold. Or, in this case, in your mind. _

“Sure.” He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful, he just doesn’t trust himself with intrincated sentences with many words. 

“I have heard that you like sandwiches, so let’s go with that, yeah?”

The words make him blush; he wonders if Mack is trying to reference The Sandwich, or if he is just talking about Fitz’s well-known voracious appetite. He is not going to ask to find out.  

“Whatever you do is fine.”

Mack chuckles, and the sounds resonates in the entirety of Fitz’s ribcage. 

“You are a lot more accomodating in the kitchen than you are in the lab.”

He doesn’t have a coherent reply to that- how can he convey _ because watching you do anything is a treat enough  _ without sounding like a pervert or like a joke or both-, and instead he remains silent.

It’s a pleasure to watch Mack cook, almost as much as it is to watch him work; he claims that he doesn’t know what he is doing the way Fitz does around a lab, but Fitz is calling bullshit on that; there is no way such grace and such precision are only practice and not actual skill.

After a couple minutes of companionable silence and Fitz picking his nails, Mack places the plate with the sandwich and an open beer in front of him, and Fitz would like to thank him, but the actual words die on his throat.

“There you go, Turbo.” He closes his eyes while Mack pats his head, trying to not feel like a child being coddled. Only when Mack’s hand lingers on his head a second longer than what he would have expected, he raises his chin to look him in the eyes. Mack retreats his hand almost as if it were on fire, but doesn’t move away, still towering over Fitz, a slightly guilty expression on his face.

Fitz smiles at him, all teeth and gratitude, and the corner of Mack’s lips twitch in return. 

“Thank you, Mack.” He bats his eyelashes, fully conscious of what he is doing, and watches closely for Mack swallowing hard. “Are you gonna eat too?”

“Right. Yeah.” It’s hard to tell, but he is pretty sure that Mack is blushing, and he almost feels like kicking his feet in glee when the other man turns around to pick up his own plate. It’s not a statement of interest, but it’s something, and Fitz doesn’t need more.

He knows how to play the long game. 


	3. BobbiFitz - "You fight like my sister"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: BobbiFitz + "You fight like my sster"

In retrospective, he should have seen this coming.

It was too good to be true, the sheets fresh and the sun warm over his skin- and really, how did Bobbi manage to get probably the only room in base with an exterior view; he doesn’t know, and he is not sure he wants to ask-, and a leisurely free saturday in front of them. And Bobbi Morse, 5’ 9’’ of absolute magnificence, golden hair cascading down her shoulders and an enticing smile on her lips.

“Hey, buddy, how about you wake up?”

“No-ooh.” Fitz made grabby hands at her, and Bobbi grinned, but didn’t move one inch closer back to the bed. _“You_ come back here.”

“If you wake up now,” she raised her arms to tie her hair in a ponytail, and that’s the exact moment Fitz lost this fight, because he can not concentrate while she is showing off like that. “I promise I will make it worth your while.”

And that’s how he ended here, lying face up and panting for exertion, and looking at Bobbi’s face over him, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Come on, Fitz, get up.”

“No.” Bobbi ignores his reply and tugs on his arm until he gets up. “I can’t believe you are making me work out on a saturday.”

“You know, it’s great for your stamina.” And she has _the bloody nerve_ to _wink_ at him, the cheeky beggar. “Come on, one more round and then we can go take a shower.”  

His breathing is ragged, even after the seconds he spent resting on the floor; he doesn’t have any grace left on his body, and when he tries to sweep at her, it only takes Bobbi one small movement to her left to send him reeling back to the floor. She towers over him again, smiling, and Fitz covers his eyes with his arms as a sign of ultimate surrender.  

“You fight like my sister.”

“Wow. Really?” He uncovers his eyes to glare at her, and Bobbi laughs unabashedly while she sits down cross legged by his side. He might be offended, but not offended enough to not stretch an arm and softly caress her knee.   

“Of course. Pure heart, no technique. Which is better than nothing, and great in this case because I already have experience in polishing someone with that beginning traits.” She strokes a line from his elbow to the knuckle of his middle finger with her own, and shivers run through all Fitz’s body. “I might make a man out of you, after all.”

Fitz groans and once again, Bobbi laughs at him; he is noticing a pattern in this relationship already, and he can not really say that he regrets it at all.    


	4. Skimmons - Stuffed Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma is afraid Daisy won't be able to sleep while she is away; with a little help from Fitz, she comes up with a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr promp: "Daisy can’t sleep because of nightmares (this could be set in S4, or after Terrigenesis, you pick) and Jemma gives her a stuffed animal to sleep with."

“Can you _please_ stop doing that?”

Jemma turns around to look at Fitz with raised eyebrows; she won’t tolerate him using that irritated tone of voice with her, but she was very focused on her thoughts, so it’s entirely possible that he has been talking to her for a while and she hasn’t heard him.

“Stop doing what?” She uses for it the same tone of voice she’d use to say _ugh, Fitz,_ just so he knows that she is not happy about the way he is talking to her.

“That.” He makes a vague circular motion with his hand, and only when Jemma rolls her eyes he clarifies. “Worrying. I can hear your worrying all across the lab.”

Ah, _that._ She worries her lower lip between her teeth as to not smile; he might be a little rough about the way he confronts the issue, but he knows her so well that she cannot help being touched by it.

Maybe this is exactly what she needs, another mind on the issue that so far she has been feeling like an irresoluble problem; Fitz has always been her safest bet for a second pair of eyes in the lab, why things would be any different with her personal life?

“It’s just that, um, Daisy has had trouble sleeping since, well, since everything.” Fitz nods; Jemma knows that he has been doing his little part in trying to help her, with warm cocoa and impromptu video game sessions at midnight. “But she says that the nightmares had been fewer since we have been sleeping together.” She blushes, and Fitz rolls his eyes. “And tonight, while we are on this mission, will be the first time I won’t be there for her since we got together. And I worry.”

Fitz is looking at her with a look so warm that it could melt ice, and she wiggles in discomfort a bit; it’s still sometimes a little weird, to share this kind of information with him.     

“Do you remember Gadget?”

She looks at him with her lips pursued; why the sudden change of subject?

“‘Course I remember Gadget, Fitz! You have only told me about a million stories featuring him, and the poor thing suffered through hundreds of study hours with us.”

He has been nodding all the way while she was talking, but once she stops, he begins shaking his head.

“Yeah, but I haven’t told you how I got him, have I?”

She searches her memory for a story about Gadget’s- Fitz’s stuffed monkey- origins, but she comes back blank, so she just shakes her head. Fitz shoves his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, and shifts on his position till he is closer but perpendicular to her, and she can not see his face clearly.

“After dad left,” his voice is quiet and collected, but she knows him well enough to know that is out of pure will and not actual indifference. “Mom had to start working double shifts. And everytime she had a night shift, I had nightmares about, um, him returning and also him before he-, anyway.” She squeezes his forearm, but his eyes are still glazy and unfocused. “The point is that one day she gave me Gadget, and every night before she left, she sprayed him with her perfume, so I had something to hold onto until she came back. And it helped.” He inhales deeply, attempts a shaky smile. “So there is that. Just an idea.”

She ponders for a moment over touching him or not; he doesn’t handle physical contact that well when he is emotional, so instead she goes for the praise.

“Fitz, you are a genius.” And just like that, she turns on her heels to go towards the bunks section.

His shout follows her out of the lab, “I know!”

* * *

Daisy furrows her brow when someone knocks on her door, and even more when after the polite knock she hears the enter code being punched in; she was keeping her distance till saying goodbye because Jemma was supposed to be extra busy with mission preparation.

“Hey you.”

She is trying to look normal, but her breathing is ragged and she is hiding her hands behind her back; Daisy’s concern deepens. 

“I thought you had no more time to spare?”

“Technically, I don’t.” She makes a grimace and Daisy stands up so they are facing each other. “That is, not according to Coulson. But I wanted to see you for a minute and Fitz is covering for me.”

“Okay?” Daisy tilts her head, confused. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the visit, because I do, but I don’t-”

“Here. Got something for you.” And Jemma is shoving [ a stuffed owl ](https://www.amazon.com/Webkinz-Signature-Barn-10-5-Plush/dp/B00ABFRQX8) on her hands, or better said: her own stuffed owl. “I want you to hold onto this for me, okay?”

Daisy squeezes the well-known soft material of the toy with her hands, looking carefully over Jemma’s features, that are a mix of nerves and excitement.

“But, Simmons, this is yours. It’s a memento from your childhood, why would you give it to me?”

“Because I will be gone. And I want you to remember that I will always come back to you. But in the meantime, Minerva will step up on my place to sleep with you.”

“Jem, I’m not a child.”

She shakes her head, and leans over to place a quick peck on Daisy’s lips to try to soften the discomfort on her face, Daisy supposes.

“Believe me, I’m well aware.” She snickers a little, and Daisy can’t help a half smile. “But comfort is not only for children, Daisy.” She takes a step forward, wraps her arms around Daisy’s waist to hold her tight. “I want you well rested when I come back.” She is teasing her, what with her lips leaving butterfly kisses behind her ear, and Daisy is totally sold on this persuasion method. “And for that, I need you to be able to sleep while I’m not here.”

She feels touched instead of ashamed, and she places her hand that is not holding the owl on Jemma’s neck to pull her face apart enough from her own neck to kiss her.

Kissing her has stopped being a novelty a while ago, but that is not a bad thing; now it’s thrilling for a whole lot of other reasons, like feeling bold enough to hold her so tight against her own body that she can feel Jemma’s breathing as her own, or the fact that now Jemma knows every single trick to make her whimper and melt.

When they break apart, Jemma’s eyes are shining, and Daisy loves her, loves her, loves her. Sometimes it’s difficult, still, to do things that are healthy for herself, but for Jemma she will do them, and that’s a start.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I need to go now.”

“I know.” It’s difficult to see Jemma go on a mission without her, but they need to get used to it, and this kind of thing helps; life is hard, but they can make it less hard for each other. “Be safe.”

“I will.”

Jemma blows her one last kiss from the door, and Daisy goes back to her desk. Only when she is sitting once again, she takes the stuffed animal against her lips, to kiss its head as she would its owner's, and she notices that it smells like Jemma’s perfume, and her heart rate slows down while she holds it against her chest. 


	5. Fitzhunter - "We're out of ice cream"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "we're out of ice cream"

“We’re out of ice cream.” **  
**

“Okay.” His reply is a reflex, he knows, but what else is he supposed to say about a fact that he was already aware of?

“Aren’t you going to do something about it?” Fitz is close to whining now, and that finally gets Hunter to put down the controller and look at him.  _Now we’re talking._

“Should I? Because I don’t want ice cream, and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t get anything out of putting on clothes and going outside in this crazy weather to get you some.”

He is going to do it, there is no doubt about it. But teasing Fitz never gets old, and maybe he can even get a little something out if it too.

Fitz pouts at him, “You will get my never-ending gratitude?”

Hunter chuckles.

“Wrong answer, love.”

Fitz crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look threatening, and it’s one of the most adorable things Hunter has ever seen.

“I will keep hostage all your beers if you don’t?”

Hunter takes a step towards him and tilts his head.

“Are you sure this is your final answer?”

Fitz huffs, and makes a big show out of putting down his arms and grabbing Hunter’s shoulders to bring him down into a kiss, like it is a great hardship. Hunter smiles ias soon as their lips touch, and when Fitz tries to break it to keep his moody act, he tangles his fingers on Fitz’s hair and deepens the kiss until he gets a soft moan out of Fitz’s throat. When they finally break apart, Fitz’s keeps his eyes closed for a second longer, lips trembling, and Hunter grins.  

“That is more like it.”


	6. Skimmons - Belly button shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Come on, you can not tell me that you find me that hideous.” She is trying to play it cool, like she doesn’t care, but in reality she so cares, at least enough to flex her arms slightly for good measure.

The other girl- Jemma,  _Jemma,_  Daisy remembers, and the memory alone of how the double bilabial sounds makes her lips tingle- blushes, and Daisy grins at her.  _Score._

“It’s not that. It’s just that it doesn’t feel very hygienic, you know?”

Daisy can not help laughing at that, “Hygienic? Girl, my belly button is the last thing you should be concerned about if you are worried about hygiene. Have you never been to a college party?”

Jemma deviates her eyes, and takes a hand up to rub her neck. “Um, I finished college at fourteen so, um, no, not really?”

Daisy gapes. Smart and this pretty? Hot damn, it is like she won the freaking jackpot. But that is a conversation for another moment- _like a date_. Right now she takes Jemma’s hand in hers and pulls her closer, waving the tequila bottle on her other hand.  

“Come on, I can teach you how it’s done by doing one on you?”

“Um, okay.” Jemma doesn’t look that convinced, so Daisy scrubs the table with the sleeve of her flannel for her benefit, and Jemma smiles timidly at her before lying down.

Once she is settled, Daisy moves her t-shirt carefully up, leaving exposed her belly and so many constellations of freckles that she wants to learn thoroughly and in depth.

“Here it comes, okay? Stay still.”

She pours barely enough for a shot on her belly button, because suddenly she is not that interested in getting wasted as she was fifteen minutes earlier, before meeting this girl.

She leans down and places her lips over Jemma’s soft skin, feeling her tremble. Jemma doesn’t even bother hiding a soft sigh when Daisy’s tongue peaks out to lick at the edge of her belly button. 

There are definitely a ton of reason as to why she should stay sober tonight.


	7. Huntingbird - Queerness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter comforts nb Bobbi after some people misgender them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "Bobbi/Hunter where they're both queer and struggling with what being 'straight-passing' means for them/their relationship". Featuring non-binary Bobbi and pansexual Hunter. This contains misgendering and cisheteronormativity at play, and subsequent discomfort and dysphoria.
> 
> This is my first time writing a nb character as well as- I think- writing proper Huntingbird. I have done a little of reading and I'm trying to portray Bobbi's experiences in the most conscious and respectful way possible, but I'm cis and I apologize in advance for any possible misheap that might appear here.

Hunter knows something is wrong the moment she gets through the door and doesn’t even say hello, but instead heads straight (lol) to their bedroom, takes off her contacts and her make out, puts her hair up in a messy bun, and ditches the pencil skirt and silk blouse for the biggest, most threadbare Star Wars t-shirt she owns, and a pair of sweatpants that belonged to him and are too short on her ankles, but pretty good at hiding her hips.

Bad gender day, he can only assume.

He goes looking for their button pronouns, the ones they use around close friends, when they are feeling low in energy to explain and need people to get quickly what is that they need.

"Hey.” Bobbi turns around to look at him, and the look on their face is enough to make his heart clench. If there were anything he could do to not make them go through whatever triggers this kind of state he would do it, but sadly, he can only provide the safest space there can be at home. “This one or this one?”

He shows them the “he/him” and the “they/them” buttons, and just the sight of them makes Bobbi smile. Hunter can not help feeling a tiny bit proud about himself. Bobbi stretches their hand and takes the second one. He imagined, since they don’t usually go with the he/him convo, and that’s why when he noticed something was off, he did the switch immediately in his mind. It’s always better to ask, though.

“This one.”

“Cool. Do you want to cuddle on the couch while we eat ice-cream?”

They squirm a little, and Hunter tilts his head, trying to imagine what it is that they want. Comfort clothes, check. Makeup and feminine hairstyle gone, check. Better pronouns, check. Thick-framed glasses, check. If they are not saying yes immediately to comfort food and cuddles, it’s because there is something else they need to do in order to feel a little more like themself inside their own body.

Bobbi crosses their arms over their chest, looking uncomfortable, and something clicks inside his head. He gets closer to them, and places a soothing hand on their elbow.

“Do you want me to get you your binder?” They nod forcefully, and Hunter places a kiss on their cheek before leaving for their bedroom. “I got you, love.”

* * *

It’s not after Bobbi has binded and he has fed them the most unhealthy things they have in the house, and they are huddled under the covers together watching _The Empire strikes back,_ that Hunter dares ask.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Bobbi tosses and turns against his chest, and Hunter holds them, letting them know that whatever their answer is, he will be okay with it. Finally, they settle on, “Let’s say that it was a hard day.”

“Okay.”

Hunter nods, and waits for them to say anything else. Bobbi has been struggling with gender even since he met them- not for nothing they have always prefered _Bobbi_ over their given name-, and a couple years prior they have discovered that coming out as nonbinary to the people closer to them and sometimes switching pronouns… helps. But still, there are things that are out of their control, mostly about how people, especially at work, react to them. They are okay with femininity as a performance, especially since they usually feel closer to that end of the spectrum anyway, and that is what their job requires, but when people associate their presentation with their gender without a second though, or without asking, it can lead to a meltdown, or exacerbated dysphoria, or just plain old discomfort.

He lets them process what they want to say and how, his hand drawing gentle circles on their belly. He has tried very hard to not fetishize them, either on their more feminine presentation or when they feel more comfortable like this; still, it has been a little bit of a journey for him to accompany them through finding what feels best and what represents best the way they feel inside at different moments in time. He wonders sometimes if he would have freaked out if he didn’t know that he was not straight before meeting Bobbi.

Finally, they speak again, “I was just telling someone about our plans for Pride, and I got a lot of  judgemental glances, to put it nicely.”

Now, Bobbi is more than capable of kicking the teeth out of any asshole that dares snicker at them just because they- both they as a person and both of them as a couple- are straight-passing, or so they say; which is ridiculous, because neither of them is straight, and Bobbi is not cisgender. It’s not the first time it has happened, and sadly it probably won’t be the last. Bobbi presents themself leaning to feminine more often than not, and since they are assumed to be a woman, Hunter is assumed to be straight (which, both of them could still not be straight even if they were a cis-man in a relationship with a cis-woman, but he digresses). Assumptions made by strangers based on superficial perceptions and prejudices can kiss his ass.

He holds them tighter, because as vitriolic as he feels, it doesn’t change the fact that there are people like that on the world, and probably there always will be some. Educating them is not their obligation, nor they vocation. They can only take care of themselves and each other, and be prideful of who they are, no matter what the rest of the world keeps on saying about them.

“It’s just because they know that our body paint will be on point and they are jealous, love.”

They laugh, and it makes Hunter’s ribcage reverberate with the sound, and he places his cheek against their soft hair, smiling. Bigots are always gonna be bigots, but they got each other, and they will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently taking prompts for AOS for queer fics/headcanons/aesthetics, here or on [my tumblr](http://florchis.tumblr.com).


	8. TripSimmons - Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip knows Simmons is more than capable to take care of herself, but sometimes it's hard to remember that in the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my MCU Bingo square: Tripsimmons +protective

When Antoine Triplett signed up for SHIELD’s Academy of Operations, he knew that he was signing up for being, quite literally, the shield of the world. He doesn’t like showing off his heritage, because to him, it has never been as much a matter of blood: it was more a matter of the life example his Grandpa and his comrades have set for him. He knew what entailed being an Operations specialist, and he had been trained for it; that’s why the way Jemma acts in the field came as that much of a surprise to him.

He found about it from stories first; Skye was very keen on making him feel welcomed into the team, and that included telling him all the crazy missions they had been on before he met them. Trip has always been good at listening to stories, but damn, how could he not listen to  _ those  _ stories? Ever since Garrett told him about Coulson’s unit, Trip always thought of it as something like a splurge Fury did in benefit of a loyal Agent that had seen it rough, rougher than most, but somehow got to tell the tale.

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

Because Jemma jumping in mid-air with no parachute to prevent the plane to blow up? Jemma jumping in front of a grenade to save Skye and Fitz? He has always had mad respect for the Science Division, that tried to save the world in a very different, but no less important way, that he did, but that anecdote immediately takes him back to a story his Grandpa used to tell about Captain America, and damn, girl got  _ guts. _

It takes him little time to realize that self-sacrifice for the greater good seems to be a constant of this team, and that is one of the many reasons why he’d follow these people to the grave, but the soft need to protect Jemma- five foot nothing, not field training whatsoever, two PhDs and a tendency to jump in front of grenades for people she loves- never truly fades.

He knows he became particularly protective of her, ever since that time they got trapped together at the Hub, but by the time they get involved, there is no way to actually deny it. Then they get assigned to a mission together, and he goes out of his way to follow her everywhere, though she is not under any more risk than any of the others. He can’t help it. He knows she is capable, but he also knows that she is reckless, and sometimes she is too prideful to notice the difference.

She comes after him like a hawk after that, and okay, she can be terrifying when she wants.

“What is the matter with you, Antoine?”

_Uh oh._ He has heard Fitz complaining about her using the first-name treatment when she is mad, but he hadn’t known it would be this intimidating. 

“Nothing, girl. What are you talking about?”

She presses an accusatory finger against his chest, and she doesn’t even swoon at the firmness there, which means he is royally screwed.

“You were assigned to stay with Agent Davis. Meaning: Not. With. Me.” She punctuates every word with another poke, until he takes her cold, roughed up hand in between his. Maybe he can not sweet talk his way out of this one, but he can always tell her the truth.

“I’m sorry, Jemma. You know I worry about you. Not that I don’t think you are capable of taking care of yourself. But it is… difficult, for me.”

She bites her lip at that, but her face doesn’t lose any harshness.

“Then we can not get assigned to missions together.”

He tilts his head. These are hard times: they are at war, and maybe taking his biggest weakness into battle with him is not the best course of action.

“You are right. I promise that if a mission plan ever makes me think I’ll go nervous like that again, I’ll call off of it.”

“Thank you.” Her face finally softens, and she even smiles a little. Trip beams at her, because how can he not? “But, actually, there is something else you can do about this.”

“What?”

She is not gonna call them off, right? He is been trying to play the casual card when he actually doesn’t feel casual at all, but she is not gonna call him out on it, is she?     

“Teach me.”

“What?”

“If you are concerned about my safety in the field, then train me.”

That’s… that’s actually a great idea. No wonder she is a certified genius.

He strokes her cheek with one thumb and looks carefully into her expectant eyes.

“One condition, though.” She nods, and he waits till he has built some anticipation to continue. “You will let me kiss any booboos you might get during training."

She laughs, and the sound is so exquisite Trip can only lean over and kiss her.

“Deal.”    


	9. Fitzhunter - Rewind AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzHunter + “Don’t tell me to give up like everything is meaningless.” 
> 
> Alternate universe for "Rewind".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From an anon prompt that requested "FitzHunter + Don’t tell me to give up like everything is meaningless.”

In this universe, Hunter’s last words to Fitz aren’t a Star Wars reference, and he doesn’t promise to look after Polly and Robin to ease Fitz’s mind- he will do it anyway, because that’s who he is in every universe.

In this universe, he is worried and sad too, but mostly he is mad and desperate, and those feelings don’t let him fade away in the background and let Fitz carry the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

In this universe, he says  _ excuse me, mates, _ and drags Fitz by the collar of his t-shirt to the nearest closet he can find. His hands are shaking, and he shoves them inside his pockets so Fitz won’t notice, and masks with hard eyes his borderline hysteria at the world crumbling under his feet. 

“Have you gone out of your mind?” His voice is shrill even to his own ears, and Fitz is looking at him with his eyebrows raised.

“No? I mean s-sure, my mind is not what it used to be, but-”

“Shut up, just shut up.” He sounds harsher than he intended, and he regrets his knee-jerk reaction as soon as it happens; it doesn’t make him proud to witness the expression of surprised hurt on Fitz’s face. “I’m not talking about your brain injury, or, or about that bloody Framework thing. I think you are perfect despite that and because of that. I’m talking about this nonsense, Fitz!”

Fitz takes a step back, a wall forming behind his eyes, and Hunter doesn’t know how to properly convey that he is drowning in desperation, clutching at straws to prevent his teammate, his friend, his  _ love, _ to go after certain death out of guilt.

“If you think I will let them-”

“I’m not saying you should-”

“-don’t understand that it’s my fault-”

“- if you are dead you won’t-”

“-none of your damn business-”

It’s in the middle of the screaming match that Hunter gets a flash, clear as a vision and powerful as a thunder, of the reason why Robin doesn’t speak; why bother bringing up pain and sorrow that are to come, when there is nothing we can do to prevent them, and they will come anyway? Knowing only accentuates the pain. He discards the thought as quickly as it comes; he can not think that the future is unchangeable, because otherwise all he can do is sit and cry and wait and hurt. 

Lance Hunter does not deal well with sitting or crying or waiting or hurting. If on top of that you consider that he has been aching all this time to kiss Fitz to his heart’s content, and there never will be enough kissing to fill his heart, well, it’s only understandable that he snaps.

He lurches forward, his hands splayed wide on Fitz’s cheeks, and though he interrupts him in the middle of a very passionate sentence, Fitz opens up his eyes in surprise but does not protest the kiss, his body settling against Hunter’s like no time at all has passed since the last time they did this.

There is comfort how they can so easily find all the ways they fit against one another; there is comfort, but there is also sorrow.

Fitz’s hands are trembling, but his lips are firm, and his tongue warm in the folds of his mouth; there is, nonetheless, a chilling stream running between them.

When they break apart, there is tenderness on Fitz’s lips and determination in his eyes. They break apart and Hunter is already mourning the battle he knows he lost. 

“You can’t tell me to give up like everything is meaningless.” 

Hunter knows what he should reply,  _ that’s not what I’m saying, I mean that we need to be rational about this. I know we need to rescue the team, but freezing yourself for 74 years to go wandering in the middle of bloody outer nowhere on something that is barely short of being suicidal is  _ not _ the way to go. _

What he says is, “They are also my team, and I love them too.”

He doesn’t say, either,  _ I love them, but I don’t know if I love them enough to risk losing you over a hair-thin chance of getting them back.  _

Fitz smiles, sad, and squeezes his shoulder. Hunter places his hand on top and holds onto it for dear life.

“I know.”

Fitz leaves, probably to go set up that bloody chamber, and Hunter stays back a little longer, schooling his features so the last image of him Fitz will take to the future is not stained with tears.    __

In another universe, he tells Fitz that he loves him, and means it. In this one instead, he just peers down at Fitz, smiles and swallows it down. He will have another chance to tell him when he gets back. He has to believe that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fills the "Fitzhunter: outer space" square in my MCU Bingo Card
> 
> I'm accepting prompts for it and for my MCU Kink Bingo Card. too. If you want, you can look for some inspiration in my Visual Prompts List (warnings for NSFW descriptions and links that take to NSFW pictures).


	10. Quakerider - Coworkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you sing under your breath as you work and you don't seem to realize you’re doing it but it's driving me insane— YOU are driving me insane”

He is  _ not  _ being a grumpy-pants just because he doesn’t join on her impromptu matutine sing-alongs, no matter what she says.

In fact, he is a patient person. Sure, he does have  _ un caracter de mierda, _ as his abuela used to tell him all the time, but one does not raise a little brother the way he raised Gabriel without patience. 

And don’t ever get him started on the kind of patience it takes to get a rusty, old car to purr under his hands like a contented kitten. 

But he just can not cope with Daisy Johnson and her cheerful ass. He can understand being happy when there are  _ reasons _ , but work is work, and despite being grateful for having one, that is that for Robbie. For him, there is no reason to sing Backstreet Boys songs under her breath while making inventory.

“Could you just please stop?” He has been mulling over it for weeks, and now with an imminent headache beating behind his eyes, he just can not keep it to himself any longer.

She looks at him, with her mouth hanging slightly open, bewildered. She is attractive always and cute even like this, and that makes Robbie’s anger boil harder.

“Stop what?”

“With, with the  _ singing _ !” he spits the verb like it has personally offended him. Now that he is finally talking about it, he is gaining impulse with every second. “And while we are at it, with the smiles too! And the cheerfulness in general! And all the ‘Robbie, hope you had a wonderful weekend!’ crap!”

He feels guilty as soon as the words leave his mouth; he is running on three hours of sleep and as many cups of coffee, and he just found out that Gabe’s medical bill is going to be a bit higher than he expected this month, and they are barely scraping by as it is. He knows that nothing of that is her fault, and that is not fair that he is taking it out with her, but, well. 

He does indeed have un  _ caracter de mierda _ . 

He was already resigned to get slapped or to have her crying, or at the very least, scoff at him. Instead, Daisy Johnson stands there and looks at him with her curious eyes and her head slightly tilted.

“I’m sorry you don’t have a reason to be happy at work, Reyes.” She pats him on the shoulder a couple times, and Robbie looks at her hand with disbelief. “Because I do have one.” 

She punches him softly for good measure and leaves with a slight sway of her hips, her head high. Robbie watches her go, still trying to decipher  _ qué carajos está pasando.  _

Until he replays on his head the way she, well, the way she smiles at him, and always starts a conversation, and hums contentedly while she is working. With  _ him. _

_ Mira que hay que ser negado, Reyes.  _

“Hey, Johnson!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough translations for y’all,                
> 
>  _Caracter de mierda_ = bad temper
> 
>  _Qué carajos está pasando_ = what the hell is going on    
> 
>  _Mira que hay que ser negado_ = This sure is being clueless.  


	11. Fitzhuntingbird + "Sorry to wake you" {G}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Tumblr is going to hell, I'm moving even my tiny drabbles over here!

“Hey, sorry to wake you up.” **  
**

“Wha’?”

He opens one eye, and rubs at it, but still the image makes no sense to him, because Fitz is smiling at him from his right and above, instead of being asleep to his left.

“Do you know where my sneakers are? I can’t find them and Bobbi says that I absolutely can  _not_ ,” he pulls a face, and Hunter blinks, because he is still not toally convinced that he is not dreaming, “go running without them.”

That makes him sit up on the bed because,  _Fitz_  and  _running_  are two words that just… don’t go together in the same sentence.

“Why are you going running, love?”

“So Bobbi doesn’t have to go alone and you don’t have to wake up, either.” Fitz pouts. “But well, that is ruined now.”

Hunter beacons him to come closer, and when Fitz sits on the edge of the bed, he scoots closer until he can cuddle against Fitz’s side.

“Aw, you would endure running just so I can get more sleep? That is  _love_.”

Fitz kisses the top of his head, and smiles softly after. Hunter just closes his eyes and lets himself be engulfed in his warmth and scent, the way he so rightfully deserves.

“It sure is, Hunter.”

“Hey, Hunter, let go of my running partner.”

“Sod off, Barbara, you know he is mine during the mornings.” He makes grabby hands for her despite his words, and she sighs but sits on the other side of him anyway.

“Well, not today.”

“Come on, Fitz, ditch her, I’m already awake so you don’t need to go.”

“Sorry, Hunter, but I promised.”

Hunter then turns to Bobbi, and pokes her in the nose.

“You see, going running with you just to keep you company.  _That_  is love.”

Bobbi smiles, and stretches a hand across Hunter’s chest to stroke at Fitz’s cheek.

“I know. He’s a babe.”

Hunter pushes at both their waists to get them both to get up.

“Your sneakers are under the bed, Fitz. Now go before I throw up from such sickeningly sweet demonstrations this early in the morning.”

Fitz just laughs, but Bobbi leans over to kiss him on the cheek and at the same time punch him on the shoulder.

“We expect pancakes when we come back.”

He pouts, more to get them both to kiss him one last time than for anything else.

“Now you are just doing it to ruin the surprise!”


	12. Quakerider - "Dogs don't wear clothes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Tumblr is going crashing down, I'm saving here even my tiny drabbles.

In her defense, she was having a pretty crappy day before this asshole decided that it was okay to park this old piece of junk he probably calls  _‘baby’_ on her spot.

Now, she knows she doesn’t have any legal right to that spot. She  _knows_. But it is the perfect parking place on all her block- close enough to her building, but away enough from the trees so birds won’t crap on it too much, and away from the corner teens use to hang out-, and in the last six months since she moved here, she has not found it occupied once.

Until today.

She parks behind it a little viciously, and if she touches the rear bumper of the other car a little more than it is strictly necessary, well, who can’t blame her, right?

“Hey! That’s my car!”

She comes down of the car stomping and screaming, and okay, she feels like a little child throwing a tantrum, but she did have a fucking awful day, okay?

“And that’s  _my_  spot!”

In two seconds flat there is a handsome man all donned in black leather standing in front of her, and somehow the fact that his freckles are so attractive makes her go even madder.

“Street parking is for everyone, you crazy woman!” He kneels to evaluate the damage from up close, and only then- that his face is not distracting her, ahem- Daisy sees the small black dog with a tiny red sweater he is holding under his arm, and she realizes he came out running of the pet store near her building.

“What are you even doing here, hm? Getting new clothes for your dog? Dogs don’t wear clothes, dumbass!” It all comes out of her mouth in a rushed explosion, and after she yells herself hoarse, she feels much better, like she has cleansed the negativity out of her body. Also, a little dumb, because she is yelling at a stranger on the street about his dog’s clothes.

He stands up, his nostrils flaring and looks her up and down in distaste.

“What can you know,  _chiflada_?”

And that way he marches away, the dog still waving under his arm. Daisy exhales and takes a minute to fully calm herself down with her back against the door of her card. This was it, disaster averted.

Until, of course, she notices him entering her apartment building.

_Well, fuck._


	13. Fitzhuntingbird + "I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Tumblr is going crashing down, I'm saving here even my tiny drabbles.

He had it all planned to a T: the flowers, the music, the homemade dinner, even his notes for what to say in case the proposal seemed like the right way to go.

And yet, somehow, there is something he managed to miss: to make sure that his partners would be there for the occasion.

After two hours of waiting, fifteen texts and five calls going straight to voicemail, Hunter fridges the food and goes to bed, trying to not let his hurt feelings get the best of him; this is the kind of lives they lead, it has happened to him too, and it makes no sense to be mad at them, even though he can not help nursing his bruised expectations a bit, that make him send one last text to them both,

_I didn’t think you two could get any less romantic, and yet._

He wakes up three hours later, with the weight of other body making the mattress sink. Hunter knows it is Fitz based on body length and the scratch of his beard against his cheek even before he is completely awake.

“I’m sorry, love.” Fitz hides his nose on the hollow of Hunter’s neck and places a soft kiss against the curve of his jaw. “Bobbi got called in for an urgent mission, and I’m running point for her so she can be back as soon as possible.”

“Mmmkay.” It’s the only response his thick tongue can produce, and he turns around to draw Fitz closer, but by the time he manages it, Fitz is already gone. “Whatcha doing?”

He rubs his eyes to clear his vision, and barely manages to catch a glimpse of Fitz at their bedroom room smiling ruefully before falling back asleep.

“Sorry, Hunter. Gotta go and bring our girl back home.”

By the time he wakes up, he is pretty sure he has dreamed the entire thing.

Except when he gets to the kitchen, grumpy and worried, he is welcomed by the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, Fitz taking care of the food while wearing an apron and Bobbi- looking like she needs a good night of sleep, but beautiful as ever- spraying with water the flowers to make them perk up.

“What are you doing?”

Fitz waves at him from the stove, but then turns back to his task. Bobbi rolls her eyes, but gestures for him to come closer.

“Happy anniversary, Drama King.”

Hunter embraces her, and Bobbi places a careful kiss on his hair.

“You remembered.”

“Excuse me, we are better than you with dates. We just run into a couple of setbacks to be here on time, that’s all. There was no need for that dramatic text.” She lowers her voice, enough to pretend that she doesn’t want to be heard, but not enough to actually left Fitz out of their conversation. “You made Fitz here feel very guilty. You see, he likes to pretend that he is this big romantic expert and everything.”

“Hey! Keep that up and there will be no pancakes for you, Barbara!”

Hunter laughs, still holding her tight, and looks at Fitz from over Bobbi’s shoulder.

“As if you could deny her anything.”

Fitz lets out a long-suffering sigh but walks closer to them until he can kiss the tip of Hunter’s nose and the nape of Bobbi’s neck.

“No, you are right, I couldn’t.”


	14. Skimmons + IKEA furniture

Daisy lays down on the floor with every intention of not getting up ever again.

“I’m dead. I’m sorry, Simmons, but I’m dead. You should go on without me, babe.”

Simmons rolls her eyes at the view- _because of course she does_ \- and finishes adjusting her ponytail.

“Of course you would do this when I leave you alone for just one minute. I’m never buying IKEA furniture again if it turns you into a whiny baby,  _babe_.”

Daisy closes her eyes and wiggles her hips against the tiles. It’s cold, but not uncomfortably cold, and she can deal with it. She can deal with everything except that desk set made of  _pure evil_.

“It looked cool on the pictures, though.”

“Nothing worth having comes easy, Daisy.”

She should be offended, really, that Jemma is trying to use such a line with her. But she has to choose her battles, and right now, she really wants to win the stay-on-the-floor-forever battle, so she has to let the battle over Jemma’s quotes go. What can help her win that particular battle? Oh, yes. Bringing up someone more qualified than her will probably help.   

“Why is not Fitz here doing this? He is, like, a genius with his hands. And I’m saying genius in a literal way, you know.”

Simmons sighs and Daisy, with her eyes still closed, can imagine exactly her exasperated features, and that makes her smile.

“Because Fitz is not my boyfriend and I’m not moving in with him.”

“Let’s face it, Simmons, Fitz  _is_  kind of your platonic boyfriend.”

“Emphasis on platonic.”

“Damn right.”

“Okay, let’s do this.” And that’s her  _let’s get down to business_  voice, so Daisy opens one eye to find her sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. “I’m offering one kiss for every piece that is put on the right place, a  _special_  prize when it’s finished, and a  _bonus_  if it is finished before I’m done with the library.” A flow of warmth runs along Daisy’s entire sternum and down and down till her belly button. “Do you want me to put an ad with the terms of this agreement, find someone that can put this together for me?”

Damn her and her power to make her hot and bothered without even laying a finger on her, with just a promise and a few carefully chosen words.

She sits up and tries not to look at Jemma’s satisfied grin while she cracks her neck.

“Okay, let’s do this, so we can be done with this furniture from hell and get to the really interesting part, aka trying our new mattress.” She gets up and offers both hands to Jemma to get her up too. “But I’m going to need something before.” And she takes advantage of their proximity to surround Jemma’s waist with her arms, and pull her even closer. “How about an advance now? You know, so I know that my work will be worth it.”

She is already teasing Jemma’s cheek with her nose, and it’s a very strong confidence boost to know that she can too make Jemma breathless with something as simple as an embrace. Jemma’s eyes flutter closed, and Daisy starts kissing a path from her temple to her mouth. Simmons wets her lips before talking, and her voice sounds low and distracted.

“I think we can manage that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
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